


you put the sweat in sweater...

by startswithhope



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Missing Scene, and Patrick is adorable, because Patrick all sweaty had to do things for David, because he's human, the roast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 09:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18280046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: This is just a little missing scene from "The Roast" set after the dance rehearsal and before David is back at the motel. I needed to explore the many reasons he reacted so positively to seeing Patrick dance... (really mild M here folks) And please forgive the title, I was SO stuck.





	you put the sweat in sweater...

**Author's Note:**

> (p.s. it's hard to start writing for a new fandom, so thanks to everyone who takes the time to give feedback!)

“What are you smiling about?” David hears Patrick ask from beside him, pulling his attention from his myriad of thoughts. They are steps away from Patrick’s apartment, hands clasped between them as twilight pulls the orange from the sky to replace it with streaks of indigo. 

“Hmm...oh...just thinking about that dance…,” David muses, giving Patrick’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I know, it needs work.” 

David’s eyes shoot over to Patrick at the lack of confidence he hears in his voice, something rather unusual for the man he loves. 

“Patrick, it’s amazing. I can’t stop thinking about how good you both were. Seriously, zero embarrassment.”

Stopping at the front door of his apartment complex to open the door for them both, Patrick gives David a shy smile, obviously taken aback by the sincere compliment. 

“Really? Cause I feel a bit out of my depth with this whole thing,” he admits, his hand reaching for David’s again as soon as they are inside at the bottom of the stairwell. 

David pulls him closer to his side, only caring a tiny bit about Patrick’s still sweaty shirt touching his sweater as they walk together up the stairs. 

“I’ve seen my fair share of bad theater, Patrick, so trust me please. I once had to watch my Mother do a one woman show version of “Mommy Dearest”. It made me wish for a wire hanger just so I could end it all.” 

Patrick guffaws beside him and David can feel his hand relax in his grip, thankful his reassurances have done the trick. It’s rare to see Patrick unsure, but David has come to secretly cherish these moments of vulnerability as it means that Patrick trusts him in ways no one outside of family, or Stevie, ever has. 

Using his key, (the one Patrick gave him the day he signed his lease because as Patrick put it, “I want you here whenever you want to be here, David”) David let’s them into Patrick’s apartment, but grabs Patrick by the arm before he gets too far inside. His thoughts about the dance haven’t been just about pride, his mind quickly going back to seeing Patrick sweaty, rumpled and out of breath as he crowds Patrick against the back of his door. 

David watches as Patrick’s eyes grow heavy lidded as David leans in to run his nose along his dewy temple, shivers rolling down his spine as the slightly curly strands of Patrick’s short hair tickle his skin. His smell is intoxicating, musky and salty, so reminiscent of much more intimate moments that David can’t help but want…

Patrick beats him too it, turning his face so their lips align in a bone melting kiss. David finds himself molded to every inch of Patrick he can find, one hand buried in the damp hair at the nape of his neck while the other grips hard at his hip to keep him steady against the door. Patrick hands are more active, struggling to get beneath David’s bulky sweater to find skin. 

“Take this...thing...off,” he breathes against David’s mouth before kissing him again, almost mind-numbingly enough to ward off David’s instinctual response. Pulling back slightly, he narrows his eyes, stern yet playful so Patrick knows he’s not really serious. 

“This _thing_ is vintage,” he proclaims, collecting the sweater by the hem so he can pull it carefully over his head. “And honestly, I’m not entirely sure of how to clean it and it probably smells of your sweat now, so thanks for that.” 

Patrick grabs the fluffy garment from David’s hand and buries his nose in it, smiling up at him before tossing it over the coat rack by the door. 

“It smells like you,” Patrick teases, “and in case you forgot, you’re the one who accosted me just now, not the other way around.” Patrick’s hands are now gripping the sides of David’s undershirt, fingers tugging the material up still seemingly in search of skin. 

As Patrick’s hands slide up and around David’s back under his shirt, David pushes more of his weight forward, the warmth of Patrick radiating through the thin layers of cotton now the only things separating them. Despite the many comebacks fighting their way to the tip of his tongue, he decides he’d rather use his tongue in a very different way. This time their kiss is deeper, dirtier, revving them both up until hands begin working at zippers and waistbands. 

It doesn’t take long before David takes them both in hand, working skin against skin as Patrick kisses his neck, breathing hard and broken against his throat. They’re both sweaty now, Patrick’s shirt nearly soaked through along his sternum, the sight of which managing to turn David on even more. He never knew he had a kink about this, but as he finds himself careening closer and closer to the edge, he doesn’t have the brain cells available to question it further. Patrick’s teeth close lightly over his skin, followed quickly by a guttural _“fuuuuck…”_ as Patrick comes, something primal in David surging forth as he soon follows. God, he loves wrenching Patrick free of all control like this. 

Patrick’s mouth is leaving a hot trail back to David’s lips and he welcomes him home, kissing him slowly, reverently, doing his best to ignore the sticky aftermath on his hand as they both take a moment to come back to earth. Eventually, Patrick peels his sweaty mess of a shirt over his head and begins to wipe at David’s hand, but David recoils in disgust. 

“Ew...gross,” David cringes, quickly stepping out of the circle of Patrick’s embrace. 

“What?” Patrick questions, looking all kinds of debauched with his pants hanging open, shirt in his hand and hair even more rumpled than it had been after the dance rehearsal. 

“Drop that disgusting thing and meet me in the shower,” David demands. 

David is halfway to the bathroom when he hears Patrick reply, “Really? I was beginning to sense that maybe you had a thing for…” 

Turning back to Patrick, he skewers him with a pointed look. “Sweat on _you_ in certain circumstances is _maybe_ a thing for me, but I still have to draw the line somewhere.” 

Leading them into the bathroom, they both begin to strip, David’s socks the last thing left for him to remove. Patrick reaches around him to turn on the shower. 

“Well, as long as we are admitting to things, I gotta tell you, I really dig you in those socks,” Patrick says, raking his eyes down David’s legs and back up as his eyebrows wiggle ridiculously. 

David huffs, knowing Patrick is teasing him and _seriously_ hoping he is kidding. The twinkle in Patrick’s eye as he leans in to press a sweet kiss to his lips tells him he is, but that doesn’t mean David can’t play along. 

Pulling away, he makes a show of leaning down and rolling the socks down his legs, standing with them still in his hand and placing them gingerly on the edge of the sink. “Good to know, I can grab the designer lederhosen I picked up at Oktoberfest that’s back at the motel tonight. The matching socks have these little tassels and…”

Patrick doesn’t let him finish, giving him a little shove into walk in shower and silencing him with a very wet and very cold kiss under the not-hot-yet spray. David yelps and tries to move out from under the cold water, but there isn’t room in this stupid, tiny shower, so he just lets himself be kissed, shivering against Patrick until the water begins to warm. 

It goes cold again by the time they actually get to cleaning themselves up. 

David definitely doesn’t wash his sweater later that night at the motel, either. 


End file.
